


Dreams to Write

by MewUniverse



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Behind the Scenes, During Canon, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Originally Posted on deviantART
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewUniverse/pseuds/MewUniverse
Summary: "Everyone has times in their life when they feel that they cannot reach their dreams." Autor, in his research to gain the authorial world-bending power of Drosselmeyer, discovers that the heir to the power is not him and will never be him. How can he move forward with his plans now?





	Dreams to Write

All Autor could do was stare at the finished geneology chart in front of him in shock. "No... It can't be," he whispered. "A-All this research, all this time spent..."

"It wasn't wasted, Autor," Elizabeth consoled soothingly, laying a hand on his shoulder. The curly-haired brunette stood just behind Autor, about a half-head shorter than him. "We've found the writer, the direct descendent. That's our goal, wasn't it?"

"Ugh! Why? Why does it have to be him?!" Autor threw his research books from the desk to the floor with one sweep of his hand. "I know the story, I know how the powers work - why not me?!" He smacked his ink bottle, sending it flying to the wall where it exploded with splotches of ink.

Elizabeth flinched as Autor's rage continued. She was his closest friend and his research assistant when it came to Drosslemeyer and The Prince and the Raven, but she had never seen him this mad. She stepped backwards and ducked as a stack of papers flew in her direction. "Autor, calm down, please! It's not the end of the world," she protested, fists clenching her ink-splattered skirt.

"Yes it is!" He slammed his fist on his desk. "Or it could be! I mean, why not let him be the knight and ME be the writer instead of him being the writer?!"

"I don't know," Elizabeth replied, lowering her voice. "But acting like a child won't change things - not with the way Drosslemeyer runs this story."

Autor sighed, bending down to pick up the books he knocked off. "He's playing favorites," Autor protested, his voice softer yet still upset. "And... it's just pathetic that talent like his is passed down based on bloodline, of all things, not taught to someone with talent and potential!" He dropped the books onto the desk and proceeded to pick up his pages of research.

Elizabeth bent down to help him, continuing, "Bloodline is usually favored in stories like these," she admitted, a tinge of sadness in her voice. Pausing to set papers back on the desk, she added, "It...really is your dream to spin stories like him, isn't it?"

His dark eyes met hers as he slowly stood with his arms full of papers. "Yes, it is, Elizabeth," he said solemnly, enunciating each word. "I don't want to be controlled - I want to be IN control." He set his notes back on the desk and began flipping through them. "Ever since I started finding evidence that this town is being controlled by stories, I wanted to find all the pieces of the puzzles and to be the one with the power to control the story." He reorganized his notes as he spoke instead of meeting her concerned gaze. "I'm worthless without his gift."

As he slumped into his chair, Elizabeth started to reach a hand out towards him, then pulled it back hesitantly. "You're not worthless," she insisted in a low voice. "You're brilliant and talented, and you can see the world in ways others cannot." Her shoes clicked against the wooden floor as she walked back to the other desk in the room. Sitting in its chair, she picked up her spotted quill, watching Autor with sadness and concern as he sat with his head in his hands. After a few moments, she dipped her quill in her inkwell and began to write on blank paper.

The quill's scratching on paper eventually drew Autor's attention, making him lift his head and look over at her. He watched her, at first curiously, then with irritation in his eyes. "Even you can write stories, and the words don't flow to me like that," he seethed.

She paused, looking up at him. "My stories cannot alter this town's story. You know that."

"Yeah, but you're closer to having Drosselmeyer's power than I am," Autor murmured. He stood, calmly leaving the room and sliding the door shut behind him.

Minutes passed before Elizabeth dared to move her hand back to the page. Her eyes stayed on the door. "I'm sorry, Autor," she whispered. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she turned back to her writing.

Meanwhile, Autor had gone to where he could always think clearly - the room holding a sleek black Baby Grand piano. A classical melody and harmony wove through the air as his nimble fingers pressed upon the piano's keys. It was a song he had memorized several times over, as well as one that fit his current emotions. At first the melody was even and calm, even soothing like a waterfall. But, after the first sixteen measures it grew grim, his left hand moving an octave down the keyboard. Melancholy notes flowed through the air, filling Autor's ears with the emotion he felt deep in his heart. Then, he flawlessly slide the notes from one song to another, slamming the keys in anger and frustration, still matching the song's mood and his emotions.

Both hands were an octave lower as they played the angry notes - but he suddenly stopped, snapping his head up in awareness. His pinkie hit a high C note, and he lowered his hands to his lap. "Of course," he murmured.

"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, slamming the door open to where she still sat writing. She almost fell out of her chair in alarm. Panting, Autor shouted, "I know what to do! I'll prove Fakir's talent!"

"Huh?" Elizabeth just stared at Autor blankly, her ink-stained fingers playing with a few of her brown curls.

"It's obvious! All I have to do is just show him what I know, teach him - and when he fails, I'll be the writer! After all, knowledge is key for this power." Autor waved his arms about in his excitement.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You sure that will work?"

"Yes! And I have just the plan! Grab that stack of books! We're going to Drosslemeyer's place!" Autor commanded as he picked up ink bottles and stacks of paper.

Laughing, Elizabeth hoisted the books into her arms, saying, "So you are going to refurnish it to match what he did!"

"Of course!" Autor proclaimed, adjusting his glasses with one hand, his other arm filled. "We must have everything prepared for when I finally meet Fakir."

As they shut the door behind them, the top blank page of Elizabeth's papers shifted so two lines could be read:

_The brief thought touched the musician's mind that maybe he would simply suffice as a guide to the weaver of stories. But then, he thrust that thought away and focused on his dream - one that he will never give up - to write stories that will change the world._

**Author's Note:**

> This is a piece I wrote back in 2011 for the deviantArt group ClubTutu that I only got to cross posting in 2021. The prompt from the group was to write a piece inspired by the following quote:
> 
> "Everyone has times in their life when they feel  
> that they cannot reach their dreams. But deciding that there is absolutely no way you can do something is merely a way of consoling yourself. Are you not deceiving yourself about your own feelings? As to what the most important thing to you is."  
> \- Mr. Cat, Princess Tutu episode 22
> 
> Autor has always been a character that stayed with me, how his jealousy of Fakir always simmered beneath the surface of his actions. I imagine it took him quite a bit to come to terms with how he couldn't get what he wanted, something I find pretty relatable.
> 
> I also used the prompt back then to briefly introduce my OC Elizabeth - a character I had planned to use to prop up full length Autor during canon story I had planned but never did finish. She prefers to stay in the background and assist Autor in his research, and she's a music student like him.


End file.
